Murphy's Law
by just slummin
Summary: Co-written by the marvelous Midnight Obsidian. Follows "Four of a Kind" in the continuing Mal/River storyline. Marcus and his crew accept a job that causes a complication with old friends. NOW COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

Murphy's Law—Part I

**Murphy's Law**

**Part I—The Job**

Authors: justslummin and Midnight Obsidian

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Just playin' in Joss' sandbox.

Rating: PG

Summary: Follows the events of "Four of a Kind" in the continuing Mal/River storyline. The crew of the Hit or Miss gets a new job.

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Marcus Hazzard walked along the streets of Persephone with an easy, long-legged stride. Feeling more than a little pleased with himself for securing a job that promised to pay enough to take a decent vacation somewhere, he found himself looking into the shop windows he passed along the way. Things had been going exceptionally well for the crew of the Hit or Miss, and Marcus couldn't help but think that Elizabeth Striker had brought a string of good luck with her when she joined the crew.

He paused at one display, the thought occurring to him that more often than not now, his mind seemed to always gravitate to the pretty lady doctor he'd hired. Something about the way she looked at him over the galley table made him all manner of hungry and inexplicably peaceful at the same time. He thought it passing strange that she should elicit such a strong reaction in him, but it was undeniable nonetheless.

"S'not her color," Bear said, following Marcus' line of vision.

Marcus felt his ears turning red. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said with all the conviction he could muster.

"'Course you do," Bear replied calmly. "But I'm thinkin' maybe the little blue one over there…" He pointed with his huge paw to a display further in the store.

Marcus couldn't help but look. His mouth dropped open as he saw the negligee to which Bear was pointing. "Ain't a yard of material in that one. And you can see right through it," he said, vaguely shocked.

Bear grinned. "Makes it just about right, then," he said. "If you're plannin' what I think you're plannin'."

"Ain't plannin' a thing 'cept the job," Marcus said doggedly.

Bear raised one eyebrow. "And the job requires you to moon about over lingerie displays in the middle of the street?"

"Wasn't mooning about," Marcus replied, feeling the heat rise to his face. "Just stopped here for a minute to catch my breath."

"Uh huh," Bear said, leaning against the store window. "Think you might need to sit down?"

"No," Marcus replied testily. "Nor you either. We need to get back to the ship."

Bear followed, shaking his head at the transparency of his Captain where the doctor was concerned.

XXXXXXXXXX

"So, we're on for tonight, 'less anybody sees a problem with it," Marcus said sometime later, leaning over the schematics for the art gallery.

Murdocke looked at the security system specs once again and nodded. "No problem from my end," he said. "These systems are a cakewalk."

Pierre nodded as well. "Simple extraction, once Murdocke works his little magic on the internal sensors. Looks to me like the hardest part will be just getting back to the Hit or Miss with the pieces."

Marcus shook his head. "Not all that many of them to worry over when I went through there today. Between the four of us, we can haul the whole lot of them to the loader in one trip. In and out." He looked up and caught Elizabeth's eye. "Any problem with this, doctor?" he asked.

Elizabeth sighed. "None," she answered, though secretly she was feeling less thrilled with this job than some of the others the Captain had accepted. Still, she supposed that the crew had to eat, and she had known when she took the position with them that sometimes her sensibilities might be mildly offended by the kind of work they had to do to live.

"All right then," Marcus said. "Then I expect we need to get some rest, bein' as how we'll be busy tonight."

XXXXXXXXXX

Darkness fell, and Marcus and his men maneuvered the loader as quietly as possible through the deserted streets. "You weren't lyin' when you said they roll up the sidewalks in this part of town at sundown," Pierre observed.

Marcus grinned. "Makes our job that much easier, doesn't it?"

Pierre nodded as he parked the loader in the alley behind the art gallery. Murdocke slipped out of the vehicle, already fiddling with the tiny device that would disable the security system in moments. Marcus stood in the shadows, watching the ease with which Murdocke did his job and thinking there was a good reason the perennially obnoxious man was still on his crew.

"Got it," Murdocke said, his teeth flashing white against the dark mask he wore.

Marcus nodded. "Bear," he said, inclining his head toward the door.

Bear stepped through the door of the gallery and moved stealthily into the darkened interior. Marcus and Pierre followed, leaving Murdocke to stand guard outside. Within minutes, they had gathered all the pieces their client had requested. Moving in smooth tandem from years of working closely together, they filled the loader with their stolen goods and headed back to the ship without so much as one glitch.

XXXXXXXXXX

Elizabeth sat in the galley, nursing a cup of strong coffee. Hearing them arrive back right on schedule, she breathed a sigh of relief. It was purely shocking, she thought fleetingly, how much she worried for Marcus' safety each time he went out on a job. The reaction didn't bear close inspection just yet, she decided.

Walking gracefully to the steps leading down into the cargo hold where they were busily unloading the goods, she smiled warmly. "I take it everything went off without a hitch, as I don't hear the tramp of Alliance boots approaching."

Marcus grinned up at her. "Slick as spit," he said.

"Good to know," she replied, wondering at what point such a phrase had grown to be so pleasant to her ears. "So, we'll be taking off now?"

"No, not just yet. Bein' as everything went so well, I thought it would be safe enough to stay here one more day. Maybe get some shopping done, seeing as how there won't be much in the way of supplies where we're going."

When Elizabeth frowned, he continued. "Thought you might like some sundries to take with you when we find a place to rest a spell. After all, with the take from this job, we should be able to have a decent sort of vacation."

"Sounds lovely," Elizabeth said, wondering what sort of place Marcus might deem a decent vacation spot. "In that case, I will bid you all good night. A lady has to have her strength for shopping."

To the chorus of good nights from each of the others, she walked back up the stairs to her room and went to bed.

XXXXXXXXXX

The following morning dawned cool and clear, and Marcus found himself in a particularly good mood when the other men on the ship wandered off on their own to pick up their supplies, leaving him alone with Elizabeth.

"Shall we?" he said, offering her his arm as he secured the ship and walked out into the sunlight.

When she took his arm, he felt vaguely like a school boy on his first date. "Fine weather this morning," he said, just to have something to say.

Elizabeth squinted up at the sky. "So it is," she agreed amiably.

"So where would you like to go?" he asked.

Elizabeth blushed prettily. "Oh, truth be told, I didn't have any shopping to do at all. Thought I'd just like to take a walk, unless you need something, that is."

"My needs are few," Marcus said, grinning. "I'd like a walk myself."

They ambled slowly through the narrow streets, stopping to look at anything that caught their eye along the way. Elizabeth felt the sun warming her back and thought that Marcus was quite possibly the most pleasant man she had ever known.

Marcus, for his part, was minutely aware of her tiny hand on his arm and the way her blonde hair shone like spun gold in the sunlight. Thinking he'd never had anyone so lovely walk beside him, he smiled happily.

"Marcus! Marcus Hazzard!"

Marcus turned toward the sound of his name, squinting as it placed the sun directly in his line of vision. "Mal?" he asked, shading his eyes.

"In the flesh," Mal replied, pumping his hand enthusiastically and nodding in acknowledgement to Elizabeth. "Didn't know you were on Persephone."

"Just doing a little job," Marcus replied. "But we will be leaving today. How about you?"

"Here for Inara," Mal replied. "She had some business to attend to, so we came along."

Marcus was about to say something else when Mal's comm unit beeped loudly. "Hold on," Mal said, flipping the receive button.

River's voice floated into the air. "Ai ren, we have a problem," she said.

"What is it?" Mal asked, his good humor evaporating rapidly with her tone.

"It's Inara," River replied. "Someone has apparently stolen the entire collection."

Marcus' pulse began to pump loudly in his ears as he heard River's words. Elizabeth gripped his arm tightly, suppressing a little gasp.

"Thought they told her that place was secure," Mal said, beginning to curse.

"Apparently not as secure as they thought," River replied.

"Gorram it," Mal muttered. "All right, tell her I'll be there in a few minutes, and we'll find the hundans as took it." Turning to Marcus, he said, "Sorry about that, but I guess I gotta go. It was nice seein' you again."

"Mal, wait," Marcus said, dreading the words he was about to say. "Inara's business here, it wouldn't be an art exhibit by any chance, would it? At the Seventh Street Gallery?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?" Mal asked, frowning.

Marcus sighed heavily. "Because I think I know who has the paintings."

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To be continued


	2. Chapter 2

Murphy's Law—Part II

**Murphy's Law**

**Part II--Sparks**

Authors: justslummin and Midnight Obsidian

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Just playin' in Joss' sandbox.

Rating: PG

Summary: Mal and Marcus discover that the 'verse really isn't as big as they thought it was.

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"Who?" Mal asked, his finger already itching to take out his gun when he found the thieves.

Marcus swallowed thickly. "Umm," he said, his face turning bright red. "That would be me."

Mal blinked rapidly several times. "You?" he repeated.

Marcus held up his hands. "I didn't know it was Inara's work," he said. "Else I'd have never taken the job."

A small tick appeared in Mal's jaw as he tried to contain his annoyance. "Do you still have them?" he asked evenly.

"Of course," Marcus said. "You can come back with me to the Hit or Miss and we'll load them up and get them back to Serenity." He looked at Mal's face. "Or back to the gallery, though that might be a mite tricky."

"Serenity'll be just fine," Mal said shortly. "Now, who hired you?"

"Woman by the name of Patience. Practically runs Whitefall," Marcus answered glumly, all the plans he'd had for the coin from the job disappearing down the drain faster than he could have imagined.

Mal grunted. "I know her," he said. "And it ain't the most amiable of acquaintances."

Marcus sighed. "I suppose I'll be saying the same thing when I tell her we didn't finish the job."

"Why would Patience want to stop Inara's showing?" Mal asked. "Far as I know, she only has a problem with me, not Inara."

Marcus frowned. "Don't imagine she even knew it was Inara," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Marcus said. "If she was telling us the truth, she said that her nephew was supposed to be the featured artist at the Seventh Street Gallery. And then, the owner decided to pull his work and showcase another exhibit instead. Patience is eager to see her nephew succeed at his business. Gave me the distinct impression she wanted him to be gainfully employed so's she doesn't have to keep supporting him. She figured that if the other artwork was stolen, the owner would have no choice but to let her nephew put on an exhibit of his own. Otherwise, the gallery'd have nothing to show this month."

Mal scowled. "Well, ain't that just a piece of shiny?" he said sarcastically.

"Well, least it was us as took the paintings, so you don't have to hunt them down, or worry about them being destroyed," Marcus offered hopefully. Elizabeth squeezed his arm in sympathy, knowing he felt badly both about Inara's exhibit and losing the easy money from the job itself.

Mal nodded distractedly and they walked back toward the Hit or Miss in an uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. Finally, Mal said, "Patience don't much live up to her name. She'll be none too happy if you don't go through with the job."

Marcus shrugged. "I'll handle Patience when the time comes," he said.

"She shot me, you know," Mal said.

Marcus looked at him in surprise. "No, I didn't know."

"Yep," Mal said. "Actually shot me twice, though the second time weren't barely a scratch."

"May I ask why she shot you, Captain Reynolds?" Elizabeth said, getting a little uneasy with the thought of Marcus trying to explain things to a woman who obviously didn't mind violence as a way to solve a problem.

Mal suddenly grinned. "Difference of opinion, both times," he said.

Observing his grin, Marcus said, "You seem awfully happy all of a sudden, considering."

"How much did Patience offer you for the job?" Mal asked.

When Marcus named the sum, Mal whistled low. "No wonder you took it. Mighta' stolen Inara's stuff myself for that much."

"Why do I doubt that?" Marcus said dryly.

Mal ignored the question. "And all she wanted you to do is give her the paintings?"

Marcus nodded. "She seems to be the kind of person who likes to have proof that a job is done before she hands over the coin."

"True enough," Mal said. "How's about we give her some? Then, you don't lose your cashy money, and Inara gets to have her show anyway."

"How do you plan on accomplishing both things?" Marcus asked.

Mal grinned. "Let's talk about it over a drink."

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"I'm afraid I don't understand," Elizabeth said, wondering if the alcohol was making her a little dull witted. "Why can't we just give this Patience person fake paintings?"

"Two reasons," Mal replied, taking a long pull on his drink. "First, though she's a mite too fond of violence, she isn't stupid. Shrewd as they come, matter of fact. I don't think she'd be fooled by just any painting." He paused for a moment, looking intently into Elizabeth's eyes to underscore his upcoming point. "And second, if she didn't know it at first, once she found out they were fakes, she'd not be very forgiving. No need to make an enemy when you don't have to."

Marcus nodded, letting the fiery liquid from his glass slide easily down his throat. "Makes sense to me. But are you sure Inara'd be up for putting her work at risk, even for a little while?"

"Wouldn't have to be for long," Mal replied. "'Magine Patience is plannin' to just dispose of it once you've shown it to her. All we gotta do is make sure we're there before she does."

"Might be a taller order than you think," Elizabeth said uneasily.

"I'll check with Inara first, to see if she's willing to risk it," Mal said by way of reassuring the doctor. Elizabeth nodded, mollified.

"So, basically I give Patience the paintings long enough to collect the money, you slip into her compound to retrieve them before they're destroyed, and I come back to Persephone to steal the nephew's work.," Marcus said slowly.

"Thereby giving the gallery owner time to showcase Inara's work," Mal said. "Then, I would imagine Patience will do one of two things."

"Which are?" Marcus asked.

Mal grinned. "Either hire you to find her nephew's work, or put out word she had work for someone else."

"In which case, you offer your services and collect the reward," Marcus said, grinning.

The two men looked at each other, pleased mightily with themselves for hatching such a cunning plot. Elizabeth, on the other hand, was less than optimistic. However, keeping her thoughts to herself, she had another drink.

XXXXXXXXXX

Having loaded up the paintings and returned them to Serenity, the crew of the Hit or Miss was invited to dinner.

"May I ask why you don't use your real name for your artwork?" Pierre asked Inara curiously over the galley table.

Inara blushed slightly, but answered nonetheless. "I wanted to see if my work could stand on its own merits. I didn't want to use my former connections with the Guild to garner support or praise." She paused delicately. "There are those who would pay for a piece of artwork fashioned by a former Companion just because the position has a certain…mystique."

Pierre nodded. "Understandable," he said. "Albeit a little nobler than my way of thinking."

Murdocke snorted. "If Pierre had ever been a Companion, believe you me, he'd use those connections for everything he was worth."

Pierre smiled beneath his mask. "And you wouldn't?" he asked.

Murdocke puffed his chest out like a rooster. "I'm a man of principle," he said, though the glint in his eye told another story.

"Besides," Pierre said casually. "What makes you so sure I wasn't a Companion before I turned to this exciting life of crime?"

Everyone at the table paused for a long moment, considering the question. Then Bear laughed, the sound reverberating in the room and making the glasses on the table rattle. "Speakin' as a man who's lived with you for a long while, I think I can safely say you ain't ever been a Companion."

Pierre inclined his head. "Touche'," he said as the rest of the table erupted in laughter.

XXXXXXXXXX

Walking back to the Hit or Miss later that evening, Marcus and Elizabeth lingered behind the others. "Are you sure about all this?" Elizabeth asked.

"Got no reason to think it won't turn out all right in the end," Marcus replied, noting the way the moonlight seemed to gleam on her pale skin. "Mal knows Patience a lot better than I do."

"That's part of what worries me," Elizabeth said. "I mean, if she's shot him twice already, I'd hate to think of that kind of thing happening to you."

Marcus stopped in his tracks, looking intently at her. "I'm like as not to get shot at, or worse yet, shot successfully, any job I go on, Elizabeth. Nothing new in that."

"I know," she said softly. "But somehow I just…" Her words trailed off as she was caught by the light in his eyes.

"You what?" he asked, hardly breathing.

"I don't want anything to happen to you," she said, not able at that moment to meet his eyes. She swallowed thickly. "I mean, you're the Captain and…"

Marcus gently lifted her chin to look into her eyes. "Is that all I am, Elizabeth?" he asked softly.

The tip of her tongue darted out nervously to moisten her lips. "I'm not sure what you're asking," she said finally.

"Aren't you?" Marcus said, his attraction to her making him much bolder than he usually was with the fairer sex. He closed the short distance between them. "I'm asking if you feel differently for me than you would for any other Captain," he whispered, his breath warm on her cheek.

Elizabeth looked up into his eyes. "Yes," she said, a little breathlessly. "I believe I do." And rising to the tips of her toes, she brushed her lips softly against his.

Marcus froze for a moment, undone by the straightforward way she'd answered the question. Then, almost of their own volition, his arms moved to encircle her in an embrace as he returned her kiss, savoring the taste of her lips on his tongue.

When at last they parted for air, both a little more breathless than they were comfortable being, he smiled at her crookedly. "Well then," he said. "That bein' the way of things, I guess I'll just have to make sure I don't get shot."

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	3. Chapter 3

Murphy's Law

**Murphy's Law**

**Part III—Cunning**

Authors: justslummin and Midnight Obsidian

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Just playin' in Joss' sandbox.

Rating: PG

Summary: Marcus and Elizabeth ponder over the events of the evening, and the crew of the Hit or Miss delivers Inara's paintings to Patience.

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Elizabeth stared at her reflection in the mirror, more than a little surprised that her face revealed none of the turmoil she was feeling since her conversation with Marcus. And not just the conversation, she thought, ruthlessly honest with herself. That kiss had ignited a fire in every nerve ending in her body, if the truth were told.

How could it be, she pondered, that she, who had spent the last several years of her life fending off the unwelcome advances of her lecherous supervisor in the hospital on Persephone, could have so easily fallen for her new employer? And how was it possible that his arms wrapped around her and his lips pressed to hers could feel so unerringly right?

She touched her fingertips to her lips, still slightly swollen from Marcus' kiss. She felt a little dizzy, as if her world had suddenly spun on its axis. Resting her hands on either side of the sink, she replayed his question and her answer in her mind and she realized with a certainty she could not explain that she had answered him truthfully. He had won her over without even trying. Something in the way he seemed almost shy and then suddenly bold, kind and gentle with her and then deadly when his crew was threatened. The man was a walking paradox and Elizabeth was undeniably interested in unraveling the contradictions.

She pulled the brush through her long blonde hair, smiling when she pictured the way they had walked back to the Hit or Miss, both more quiet than usual as if they had wandered into a dangerous territory that called for silence. Even so, he had glanced at her often, a slight smile curving his lips. And when they had arrived at the ship, she had expected him to walk on toward the bridge, but he had walked her to the door of her cabin instead, lingering there for a moment as if he was loathe to leave.

Her heart had beaten wildly against her chest, butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she wondered if he might kiss her again, right there in the corridor where any of the crew could see. But he had not, choosing instead to touch her cheek gently. "Goodnight, Elizabeth," he had said, the tender tone of his voice warming her to the core. "Sleep well."

She could scarcely remember what she had said to him in return, but she was fairly certain sleep would be a long time in coming to her tonight.

XXXXXXXXXX

Marcus stared at the ceiling of his cabin, his mind in a fever with the thought of what had transpired with Elizabeth earlier. He could scarcely credit how he's managed to ask her how she felt about him without stammering through the whole thing like a schoolboy, but somehow it had happened. And her response, well now, that was something to make a man sit up and pay more than the usual attention.

Having been burned by the vixen Saffron, he was used to a woman using wiles to twist him around her finger, used to the vaguely helpless feeling of never quite knowing what a woman was thinking at any given moment. And though he was certain Elizabeth held many secrets, she had answered him in a way that left him breathless with the directness of it.

Before hiring Elizabeth, he had decided that he was not up to entering the fray with the fairer sex again any time soon. But then she'd walked onto his ship and into his life with a startling speed that left him fairly spinning like a top. She was a mystery to him. On the one hand, she had a way about her, a calming presence that soothed his jangled nerves when he needed it. But then there was the other side of her, the side that made him all manner of restless, hungry even. He couldn't really imagine how both qualities could exist in one woman, but he was more than willing to find out, given time and opportunity to do so. Pounding his pillow into submission, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

XXXXXXXXXX

Pierre glanced over his shoulder at Marcus, who returned his gaze with bleary eyes. "Looks like you didn't get much sleep," he observed. "You worried about this job?"

Marcus shook his head. "Not really," he replied, fiddling with the action figures on the bridge.

Pierre decided not to bring up the action figure argument again at that moment. Setting the Hit or Miss down with a deft touch on Whitefall, he watched a cloud of dust swirl around the landing gear. "Not much more inviting than it was the last time we were here," he said. "Dust, clay, and more dust."

Marcus grinned. "Yeah, looks like Patience is not wildly fond of landscaping. Still, least it's hard to sneak up on a man on a barren piece of rock like this."

Pierre nodded. "And at least she agreed to this spot rather than the one in that valley. That place was an ambush waiting to happen."

"Maybe that means she just intends to pay us, and not shoot at us," Marcus said. "Could be she thinks I'm more charming than Mal."

"Charm plays into it, I ain't sure I'd bet on you," Bear rumbled, walking onto the bridge while still strapping on his firearm.

Marcus smiled. "S'why I'm carryin' you," he said. "Everybody knows you got enough charm for all the rest of us combined."

Pierre snorted, but wisely refrained from further comment as Bear growled just a little. "So, we gonna do this, or stand around talkin' about it all the day long?" Bear asked.

Marcus sighed, glancing at the chronometer on the console. "Serenity should be landing in a few minutes behind the ridge on the other side of Patience's compound. Let's give them a few more minutes to get into position, just in case Patience wants to destroy the paintings right away."

Bear nodded, ready whenever Marcus gave the word.

XXXXXXXXXX

River set Serenity down quietly behind the tall ridge bordering the eastern edge of the compound.

"Any indication we've been seen?" Mal asked, looking over his wife's shoulder at the barren landscape.

River shook her head, powering the Firefly down quickly to avoid as much attention as possible. Mal glanced at the chronometer on the console. "Marcus should be deliverin' the goods any time now," he said. "You ready to do a little sightseein'?"

"Always," River said simply, gliding out of her chair with a steady grace and heading toward the cargo bay, where Jayne and Zoe were already waiting. Mal lingered for a moment, waiting for Inara to take her place on the bridge.

"When you hear the signal," he reminded the dark-haired beauty. "Warm her up. We'll be on our way back."

Inara nodded and slipped efficiently into the pilot's chair. As Mal turned to go, she said quietly, "Oh and Mal?"

He turned back to look at her.

"Don't screw it up," she said. "Those paintings are my bread and butter for a long while. Better part of a year, to be precise."

Mal grinned. "Then I guess I'll just have to be extra careful."

Inara arched one delicate eyebrow. "Why does that not reassure me?" she said dryly.

"Can't imagine," Mal replied, grinning as he walked away.

XXXXXXXXXX

Patience nudged her horse along slowly, watching the young Captain of the Hit or Miss make his way toward the rendezvous point. Her thin lips curved into a smile. She liked Hazzard. He was not nearly as annoying as some others she'd had to deal with. Like that Mal Reynolds, for instance. Shot her favorite horse right out from under her that last time. No call for that kind of foolishness, in her opinion. But the young Captain Hazzard, well, he was different. Hadn't quite gotten that smart ass air of some of the other Captains. And besides, Patience liked a little eye candy now and again, and Captain Hazzard cut quite a fine figure with his long-legged stride and his straightforward manner. If she was a younger woman, well…

She stopped the thought abruptly, remembering that this was a business transaction and not a social call. No matter how attractive the man was, Patience had learned that men were slippery at best. She hadn't become the de facto ruler of Whitefall by falling for a chiseled jaw and a slow smile.

With those thoughts in her head, she pulled the bit slightly, stopping her horse a scant few feet away from Marcus and his men. "Lost one, have you?" she asked without preamble.

"No," Marcus replied, squinting up at her. "Murdocke's on the boat. No need for all of us to trudge out here in this heat." He did not mention the addition of Elizabeth to the crew, knowing unconsciously that the news would be annoying to the old woman.

Patience looked at him shrewdly. "Little surprised you brought three," she said.

Marcus shrugged easily. "Didn't want to have to do the heavy lifting," he said, smiling winningly.

Patience could not help but smile in return, the motion so unaccustomed as to make her face look a bit like it would crack in short order. "So," she said to move the conversation along. "You got what I asked for?"

Marcus nodded, motioning Bear and Pierre forward with the paintings. "Just as you ordered," he said.

"Any trouble?" Patience asked.

"None we couldn't handle," Marcus replied, watching Patience's men out of the corner of his eye.

Patience motioned her men over and flipped quickly through the paintings, not even slightly interested in their composition, but more than interested to see that they were all there. Counting as she flipped, she said, "Looks like they're all here."

"Of course," Marcus replied, pretending slight offense. "We do the job like it's supposed to be done."

"I can see that," Patience said dryly. She reached under her poncho and found the bag of coin there. Hefting it in her hand, she was satisfied with its weight. She tossed it unceremoniously to Marcus, who caught it gracefully. "Wanna count it?"

Marcus smiled. "No need," he said, weighing it mentally. "Feels about right."

Patience nodded. "Of course."

Marcus felt a faint fission of apprehension shoot up his spine. "Would appreciate it if your people would leave first," he said. "Less chance for a mishap, if you will."

Patience nodded, thinking wryly that if she had wanted to kill Hazzard, it would have been accomplished as soon as she had seen the paintings. And while for the most part those who dealt with her knew better than to turn their backs too quickly or too often, it would have been nice to think that her reputation had not preceded her with the young Captain. "Whatever you say, Captain," she said, tilting her head slightly in acknowledgement before heading back to the compound.

Marcus stood watching her departure, almost unable to believe the providence that had made the little exchange with Patience go smoothly. Bear shifted his feet in the sand. "Looks like we're done," he said quietly.

"Almost eerie how easily that whole exchange went," Marcus observed.

Pierre shook his head. "You just don't get it, do you, Marcus?" he asked, looking at his employer and friend with a slightly surprised gaze.

"Get what?" Marcus asked.

"Get that Patience is ….how should we say it? Oh yes, I know how. Very attracted to you."

Marcus looked at him in puzzlement. "And what would make you say that?" he asked. "Other than my obvious rugged charm, that is."

Pierre just shook his head and kept his reply to himself as the three men walked back toward the Hit or Miss.

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	4. Chapter 4

Murphy's Law

**Murphy's Law**

**Part IV—The Sheriff**

Authors: justslummin and Midnight Obsidian

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Just playin' in Joss' sandbox.

Rating: PG

Summary: Patience has an unexpected visitor, and Mal runs into a complication.

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Patience took her time getting back to the compound, enjoying the ride on her new horse. It had taken her some time to come to an agreement of sorts with the beast, but she had managed it, and now the horse would accept no other rider than her. She had thought that she was too old to break a new horse in, but when Malcolm Reynolds had shot her old faithful one, she had had little choice. And, truth be told, it was gratifying to know she could still do it.

Climbing the rise to her personal property, she cursed silently. The newly appointed sheriff was standing on her porch, his horse hitched to the railing. Patience thought that in the months since she'd seen to his appointment it had been a rare thing for him not to make the trek out to her home at least once a week. The idea had been that he would take some of the annoying little tasks that came with governing a territory off her shoulders. She had no interest in seeing to the day-to-day goings on of her neighbors, no interest in solving their petty little disputes as long as they did not infringe on her personal rights. She wanted to handle the major issues, the ones that might impact her power, and leave the little things to an underling of her choosing. And Murphy had seemed like the perfect man for the job. Level headed to a point, but interested in pleasing Patience, he had been the obvious choice in a narrow field of candidates. But still, occasionally his impromptu visits to her compound made Patience slightly irritated.

"Howdy, Miss Patience," he said, his slight drawl causing Patience to grimace a little.

"Hi, yerself," she replied, sliding off her horse with her slightly stiff joints. "What brings you out here this fine day?"

Murphy looked at her seriously. "Noticed a ship landing this morning out on the western side of your land. Just wanted to be sure everything is all right."

Patience frowned. "Everything's fine. Just some employees of mine delivering something I'd ordered offworld."

Murphy smiled in relief. "Glad to hear it. Would hate to think of anything happening to you."

Patience sighed. "I appreciate the kindness, Murphy. But I'm fair certain me and my men could handle anything that happens around here. Best you be thinking about some of the other settlers, and don't bother about me."

"Nonsense, Miss Patience," he said. "It's not a bother at all to keep an eye on things out here. Everything back in town's goin' just fine, and you're out here all alone."

Patience snorted. "Hardly. Got upwards of sixty hands on this place."

As if in answer to her words, a small group of men rode into the yard. The leader drew his horse parallel to the porch. "Boss, there's a problem," he said without preamble.

"What is it?" Patience asked quickly.

"Ship's landed on the eastern ridge, just beyond the perimeter."

"Recognize it?" Patience asked.

The man nodded. "It's Serenity," he said.

Patience drew a sharp breath between her teeth and Murphy looked at her quickly. "Trouble, Miss Patience?" he asked, already fingering the pistol at his hip.

"Nothing I can't handle," Patience said. "Why don't you go on back to town now, Murphy? I'll be talking to you later." She made a vague shooing gesture with her hands.

Murphy looked at her appraisingly. "Rather stay around, maybe ride out there with your men to see what's what," he said finally.

Biting her tongue to keep from yelling at the fool, Patience said tightly, "It's my land, Murphy, and my decision." She climbed back up on her horse, not looking back to see if Murphy complied.

Murphy mounted his horse as well. "I'm coming with you," he said firmly, his jaw set in a tight line. "People of this town made me sheriff, and I intend to do my job."

Thinking that shortly he would have no job at all, Patience nudged her horse forward. "Suit yerself," she said tersely. "But I ain't slowin' down, so's you'd best be ready to catch up."

XXXXXXXXXX

River suddenly came to a stop, reaching out to touch Mal's arm. "They know we're here," she whispered.

Mal glanced up at the surrounding terrain. "Don't see anybody," he said just as quietly.

"Coming," River said. She tilted her head to the side. "And Patience is with them."

Mal swore softly, wondering once again why things never went smooth-like. "How many?" he asked.

River squinted, as if physically sighting the group. "Five," she said.

Mal nodded. "Any way to get back to the ship without meeting up with 'em?"

"Between us and Serenity," River said, shaking her head.

Mal glanced back at Jayne, who was busily loading the paintings they had already taken quite easily from Patience's unsuspecting men. "You hearin' this?" he asked.

Jayne nodded, setting the last of the paintings down with the gentleness of a lover. He drew Vera out slowly. "I heard," he said.

"Let's aim at no bloodshed," Mal said, though his voice lacked conviction.

"Ain't likely to hit it, if that's what you're aiming at," Jayne replied blandly.

Mal sighed. "Just let me do the talking."

XXXXXXXXXX

Patience saw Malcolm Reynolds himself in the distance. Wondering what madness the man was playing at and why the other group of her man had not stopped him before he got so far into the compound, she nudged her horse forward. "Mal?" she said dryly. "Some reason you're on my land uninvited?"

Mal smiled widely as if welcoming an old friend. "Maybe I was just in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop in," he said, eyeing the four men behind Patience with a careful gaze.

Patience spat thickly and eyed him warily. "And maybe not," she answered, motioning with her head to the loaded paintings behind him.

"What's your business here?" Murphy said, interjecting himself into the conversation brusquely.

Mal turned slightly to look at him. "And you are?" he asked, somewhat surprised that one of Patience's men would speak up like that.

"Name's Murphy, and I'm the sheriff in these parts," Murphy said. "And who are you?"

Mal's eyebrows rose and he turned back to face Patience directly. "Sheriff?" he asked. "Since when did you appoint a sheriff?"

"Since about four months ago," Murphy answered, nudging his horse between Patience and Mal, making a small vein in Patience's temple begin to throb with irritation.

"That a fact?" Mal asked, the hint of amusement in his tone heightening Patience's annoyance by several notches.

"It is," Murphy said, drawing himself up to his full height in the saddle.

"Patience, want me to tell him what I'm doing here?" Mal asked, looking at her intently.

Patience scowled and turned to Murphy. "It's fair obvious this man ain't a threat to me, Murphy. Why don't you run on back to town and see to things there?"

Murphy looked at Mal carefully. "It's not that obvious to me, Miss Patience."

Mal grinned at Patience, shrugging slightly. "Reckon I look like a dangerous man."

Patience shot him a look that would have killed a lesser man or one who cared at all. She glanced at the sheriff, who looked at Mal as if he might draw his weapon at any moment. "Murphy, if anybody here gets to kill this man, it's gonna be me. Dong ma?"

Murphy looked at her, vaguely startled. "Miss Patience, I can't let a killing take place. If this man has done something to you, I'll take him into custody. I know you've had to handle things on your own for a long while, but I'm here now and I aim to enforce the law."

Mal grinned, enjoying Patience's annoyance greatly. "So, Patience, you wanna press charges?" he asked.

Patience grimaced. "Where are my men?"

"Just over the ridge there," Mal said easily. "Alive and hardly even scratched up, considering."

"What's your interest here?" Murphy asked. "And what's that you've got loaded up there?"

Mal looked at Patience questioningly. "You want I should tell him?" he asked.

Sighing at the ridiculousness of the situation, Patience nodded. "Be right interested myself to know what your interest is in the stuff."

Mal turned to Murphy. "There are paintings under that tarp," he said easily.

"Stolen from me," Patience interjected.

"Retrieved for the rightful owner, who hired me to track them down for her," Mal replied evenly.

Patience could not quite contain her surprise, but made a valiant effort nonetheless. Covering her reaction, she said, "Stolen? You mean to tell me that these paintings were stolen?"

Murphy looked at her sharply. "These paintings belong to you?"

"Well, I certainly thought they did," she replied as earnestly as she could manage. "How is an old woman to know when she's being taken advantage of? I paid for these paintings fair and square." She looked at Mal guilelessly. "Of course, if Mal here can prove that these paintings belong to someone else…" She let the sentence hang in the air, assuming that Mal could produce no such proof.

Murphy looked at Mal. "You got proof?" he asked.

"Certainly," Mal replied easily. "If you'd like to come with me to the ship…"

"Wait just a minute," Patience said, vaguely thrown off kilter by the way things were progressing. Surely there was no way for Mal to have found out about those paintings without help from someone. A sour taste came into her mouth as she realized that Mal must have known through no one other than the young Captain of the Hit or Miss. The thought was both a revelation and a disappointment somehow. Murphy and Mal looked at her expectantly. "Never mind," she said, motioning them forward. "I'd like to see this for myself."

Murphy objected. "Miss Patience, this is something I think I can handle without you having to be involved. Why don't I just…"

"Because I still pay your salary," Patience snapped. "And I got more than a right to see this. Now shut up and start riding."

Murphy's mouth snapped shut as he complied. Mal grinned and the unlikely group headed toward Serenity.

XXXXXXXXXX

Marcus scowled slightly. "Would have thought Serenity'd be breaking atmo by now," he said softly.

Pierre nodded, studying the sensors for any sign of the other vessel. "How long we gonna wait?"

Marcus sighed. "Give 'em a little longer. I hate to think of leavin' before we've seen them get away clean. Patience has already shot Mal twice."

Pierre looked at him in surprise. "Twice as in the same gunfight, or on two separate occasions?"

"Two separate occasions, as I understand it," Marcus replied.

Pierre whistled. "Sort of makes a man wonder why he'd be keen to come back here, doesn't it?"

"Not really," Marcus replied, shrugging. "Ain't like her aim was true."

"Still," Pierre said. "Twice." He shook his head.

"Well, she does have Inara's paintings," Marcus said in Mal's defense. "And he didn't want us to have to renege on the job. Right thoughtful of him, if you ask me."

"Plus a big thorn in Patience's paw if he can pull it off," Pierre observed.

Marcus grinned. "Well, there is that."

XXXXXXXXXX

To be continued


	5. Chapter 5

Murphy's Law

**Murphy's Law**

**Part V—All Things Considered**

Authors: justslummin and Midnight Obsidian

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em. Just playin' in Joss' sandbox.

Rating: PG

Summary: Mal produces his proof, and Murphy is left in a quandary.

XXXXXXXXXX

Patience approached Serenity with curiosity and a little apprehension. Though she knew she could handle Murphy if need be, she would prefer not to have to do so. He'd done a fair job of taking the irritating little things off her shoulders and much like her old horse, she didn't feel wildly inclined to break in a new sheriff.

Mal, Jayne, and River walked up Serenity's ramp with altogether too much confidence to just be bluffing, she thought, which could only mean that they did indeed have some kind of proof to give as to the rightful owner of the paintings. Patience's mind whirred with the possible implications of such proof for her.

Murphy dismounted and tied his horse to the large struts on Serenity's ramp. Turning to Patience, he offered his hand to her, a gesture which struck her as both chivalrous and oddly touching. Shaking her head slightly at her foolishness, she slid off her horse and handed Murphy the reins. "So, what you got?" she said to Mal abruptly.

Mal moved to the comm unit. "Inara, could you step down to the cargo bay, please?" he asked pleasantly enough to let Patience know he had the upper hand in this situation.

She gritted her teeth but held her tongue. Murphy came to stand beside her, his hands restless on his gun belt as he looked around the bay. But soon enough, his hands stilled as he caught sight of the most beautiful woman he thought he had ever seen standing at the top of the stairway.

Inara paused for a moment, taking in the scene below her and weighing the situation as years of training had taught her to do. Walking gracefully down the stairs, she smiled pleasantly.

Patience could not help but notice the way Murphy's jaw fell slightly open and she rolled her eyes in irritation. "Let's get on with it," she said shortly.

"Sure you wouldn't like a drink first?" Mal asked, unable to resist needling the old woman. "Or maybe you'd like to have a seat?"

"Maybe you'd like to have some lead," Patience muttered just loudly enough for Mal to hear.

Mal grinned. "No need for threats, Patience. Just trying to settle this thing in the best way for all concerned." He smiled benignly at Murphy, who was still staring wide-eyed at Inara, much to Jayne's annoyance. "Inara, take a look at those paintings if you would and let me know if any are missing."

When Inara moved to look at the paintings, Patience stepped forward. "Wait just a minute," she said. Turning to Murphy, she said, "Far as I can see, the more folks as touch these paintings, the more confused this whole thing is gonna get."

When Murphy started to answer, Mal stepped in. "Matter of fact, Inara here can solve the whole thing to everybody's satisfaction."

"How so?" Murphy asked, pleased to have another reason to look at Inara carefully.

Mal nodded almost imperceptibly and Inara said, "Because they're my paintings."

Patience had somehow not expected that answer. She opened her mouth to speak and Murphy held up his hand. "Do you have a bill of sale for them, ma'am?" he asked politely.

"Well, no, I don't," Inara said.

"Just as I thought," Patience interjected.

Inara ignored the interruption and continued talking to Murphy. "I have no bill of sale because I did not buy them," she explained calmly. "I painted them."

"You painted them?" Patience asked, putting all the sarcasm she could muster in the question.

"Yes, I did," Inara said.

Mal smiled widely. "So, you see, Sheriff, I was just retrieving stolen goods at the request of my client here."

Murphy frowned, hoping that Patience had not somehow gotten herself involved in something illegal. It would be a very awkward situation if he was required to handle such a thing. "Miss Inara, I mean no disrespect at all, but this is important. Have you got any proof at all that you painted these pictures?" He looked pained to be asking the question.

"Of course," Inara said, smiling charmingly. "Perhaps you might like to see the early sketches of the pictures. Or I could show you the contract I signed with the gallery owner on Persephone who was planning to show the pieces in his gallery."

Murphy nodded. "That would be just fine," he said, encouraged to think that there would be some kind of concrete proof of the pretty lady's words.

"So, Patience," Mal said, enjoying the situation way too much for her liking as he watched Inara head back up the stairs to retrieve the damning evidence. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to be involved in the theft of a woman's artwork, now that you know these paintings were stolen."

Patience gritted her teeth. "Of course not," she said, silently plotting all manner of damage to Mal's body the next time they should meet. "Thought I was buying them from a reputable dealer."

Murphy nodded. "I have no doubt of that, Miss Patience," he said, scowling at Mal. "Everyone knows you're a fine upstanding member of this community."

Patience shot Mal a warning look and then smiled more sweetly at Murphy than Mal could have imagined. "Thank you for that, Murphy. Nice to know I'm appreciated."

Murphy's chest puffed with the praise. Turning to Mal, he said, "There is the little matter of trespassing on private property. Now, I know you were just doin' what you thought was right, but it ain't a good thing to take the law into your own hands. You shoulda' come straight to me and we'd have come out here to straighten all this out without any undue fuss."

Mal managed to look chagrined for a short moment. Making a show of ducking his head, he said, "S'pose you're right, Sheriff. But in my defense, I can say that I didn't know Whitefall even had a sheriff. Was a rough and wild place last time I was here. Gunplay and mayhem all around." He looked pointedly at Patience, who snorted.

Murphy turned to look at Patience. "It's up to you of course, Miss Patience, but if these paintings turn out to belong to Miss Inara, I'm inclined to let these good folks go their way in peace. Don't seem right to hold 'em considerin' the circumstances."

As if on cue, Inara floated back down the stairs with the contract from the gallery owner. She presented it to Murphy with a dazzling smile. Murphy took it, pulling a pair of glasses out of his pocket and looking at it carefully. After a moment, he handed it back to Inara. "Looks to be in order," he said, looking at Patience expectantly. "The paintings are hers. No doubt about it."

Cursing inwardly, Patience said, "Reckon that's it then. No need to hold 'em, I suppose. Though I want it known here and now that I don't cotton to trespassers on my land. I see you again…." She paused, giving Mal a glare. "I'm like as not to shoot first and not even bother with the questions later. Dong ma?"

Mal smiled sunnily. "Understood," he said. Holding his hand out to Murphy, he added, "Pleasure meeting you, Sheriff."

Murphy pumped his hand energetically. "Good to meet you too, Mr. Reynolds. And just remember, you come to Whitefall, just let me know if I can do anything to help you."

"Will do," Mal replied, feeling the heat from Patience's sharp eyes boring a hole between his shoulder blades.

Murphy nodded and turned to Patience. "Reckon we should head on back," he said, motioning her down the ramp. "There were a couple of things I wanted to talk to you about."

Patience sighed and climbed into the saddle, thinking that the last thing she wanted right now was to have to hear about the problems of the other settlers when she had problems aplenty of her own.

XXXXXXXXXX

"They're up," Pierre said, looking at his sensors.

Marcus breathed a sigh of relief, seeing the reassuring blip of Serenity on the console. "Wait until we're a ways from Whitefall before we hail them," he said.

Pierre nodded and Marcus left the bridge, headed to his cabin. Halfway there, he ran into Elizabeth.

"So, Captain Reynolds and his people are in the Black?" she asked.

"How'd you know?" Marcus asked.

"Ship's moving," she replied. "I didn't think you'd leave before seeing them safely away."

Marcus grinned. "True enough," he admitted. "Can't help but feel a little responsible for this whole mess."

"You had no way of knowing they were Inara's paintings," she said kindly.

"Still, I'm glad we were able to make things right," Marcus said. "Inara is really trying to make a go of this whole artist thing, and it would have been a shame for a year's worth of work to be destroyed."

Elizabeth smiled. "You're a good man, Marcus Hazzard."

Marcus felt a blush rising to his cheeks and cursed his fair skin. "Don't know about all that," he murmured.

"I do," Elizabeth replied, her eyes shining with a light that left him oddly breathless.

Clearing his throat, he said, "So, where were you headed?"

"To the galley," Elizabeth said. "Somehow in the rush of things today, I seem to have missed a meal."

"Me too," he admitted. "Think we can manage to find something?"

"Hope so," Elizabeth said, smiling as they walked along together companionably.

XXXXXXXXXX

"So, you'd best be careful of Patience from now on," Mal said, looking at Marcus on the screen. "She ain't slow, and she ain't forgiving. Sorry it went like it did. I meant for her to never suspect your part in this."

Marcus shrugged. "Couldn't be helped, I guess. And I'm not too worried about Patience. Big fish in a little pond, I think."

Mal nodded. "Maybe, but a fish with teeth, nonetheless." Grinning, he added, "I won't be going back to Whitefall for a good long while. Don't conjure she'll hesitate to shoot me again next time she sees me."

Marcus returned the grin. "Imagine there's a bulls-eye on my head as well. But, at least we got paid for the first job, though it's a shame we won't be offered a reward for retrieving her nephew's paintings when they go missing."

Mal pondered the changed situation for a moment. "'Nara's got a contract with the gallery owner. If we can get the paintings back to Persephone before time for the showing, he'll have to honor it. And since there's no profit in it, don't see why you even have to bother with gettin' rid of the nephew's work now."

"Good point," Marcus said, thinking that he might like to get going on that vacation Patience's coin was paying for. "If you got no objection then, I imagine we'll say our good-byes and see you in the 'verse."

Mal smiled. "Sounds good. And by the way, thanks for staying about until you knew we were clear. Nice to know someone's got our backs."

"No problem," Marcus said, reaching to cut the transmission. He stared at the blank screen for a moment.

"So," Pierre said, breaking the silence. "Where to?"

Marcus closed his eyes, imagining what Elizabeth might look like in a swim suit. "Someplace with a beach, I'm thinking," he said. "And palm trees, and little drinks in funny shaped glasses and such."

Pierre smiled beneath his mask, reading his friend's thoughts as easily as if he had said them aloud. "Sounds like a plan," he said, plotting a course as Marcus walked away whistling a little tune and heading toward the infirmary with a spring in his step.

XXXXXXXXXX

Author's Note: Thus ends another adventure with the crews of Serenity and the Hit or Miss. Many thanks to those brave souls who have stuck with this storyline so far. There is, of course, another story to tell, and it will begin very soon. For those who have been wondering, BlueSun's intent will be made clear in the next arc, entitled "Stormfront". In the meantime, happy reading and writing to you all!


End file.
